*To Be Decided

I just got done reading and doing some small editing to my little blurb “Are You A Writer?”.  I had sent a copy to a friend in Holiday Park, Utah, who is a very talented person in many ways, but struggling to get her own words down on paper. I was encouraging her to write when all of a sudden I realized something: I hadn’t written in four days. The last few days have been difficult because a guest has been staying in my spare room, which also happens to house my home computer. No writing late at night or early in the morning for this guy! (Some people sure sleep a lot.)  I actually have the shakes from word withdrawal. Well…that…and the fact that I’m out of bourbon.

I do, however, have a list of future story ideas that come to me every so often. You know, late at night when you wake up out of a sound sleep and frantically write down an idea on the pad of paper beside your bed, then try desperately to read your chicken-scratch handwriting the next morning.  I decided to go with no planning this time; not today Mister! I’m going to wing-it to the max. Some people say I make stuff up, (sometimes…), but you ain’t seen nothin’ so far. They’ll be talking about this story in college literature classes for years to come.  Questions will be asked like: “What was he trying to say here?” or “Don’t you think that his use of metaphors was a little overdone?”  Yep, you’ll see. I’m on fire today. Nothing can stop me now. There is only one real question that needs to be answered: “What the Hell am I going to write about?”

Let’s see. I wrote the above paragraph 12 days ago. Hmmm……. I know what to write about!  I’ll keep writing about having nothing to write about. This will be my best work to date. Readers across the globe will be saying: ” I can’t believe I’m reading this. It’s got to get better.”  Maybe it will, or maybe if I simply keep typing long enough something funny will just ‘slip’ out onto the page. Yeah, that’s it. Writing by accident.

Last night I had a 30 minute con-fab, via that Facebook thing, with the above mentioned woman in Utah. I am still encouraging her to try writing a short story, but she is reluctant, saying: “You just don’t know the fear I have getting started.”  I sat there thinking of what to say next, while I read all of the messages we had been sending back and forth. She was at the 500 word mark. I told her to string all of them together with a couple of conjunctions, slap a title on it, then sit back and relax. Ta-Da! You’ve just gotten the ‘first’ story out of the way! The rest will be much easier. I promise. The other option is heed the advice of author Jack Douglas. His second book, Never Trust a Naked Bus Driver, bluntly states: “This isn’t really my second book.”  He found the second book the hardest to write, so he decided to ‘skip it’ and call this his ‘third’ book.  I think it’s the same reasoning that tall buildings don’t have a 13th floor. Why chance it when you can skip it‘. Buildings really do have a 13th floor in secret. It’s where the Freemasons have their meetings.

I know you’re not supposed to start a sentence with a conjunction, but what I really wanted to say was: “And just like that, this story became the tale of how Kimberly, from Holiday Park, Utah, became a great writer.”  The title of her first work is to be decided.

“Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier,” by Mother Teresa


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